From an Owner's Point of View
by Sleeping Tiger
Summary: We know how the Rum Tum Tugger is to the Jellicle Cats, but can you imagine what it must be like owning him? A One shot. Please Review!


_This is my first fanfic ever. I had alot of stories in mind to do, but I REALLY wanted to do a one shot as my first story to get a feel for using the fan fiction sight and see what people think. This isn't my usual style, but my real life cat inspired this story, and I just came up with it today, typed it up, read over it, and it should be ready! Please Review and tell me what you think._

_Disclaimer - I do not own Cats, but I do own a cat..._

_And now, for my Debut Fan Fic, I give you..._

From an Owner's Point of View_  
_

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"The Rum Tum Tugger is a Curious Cat"

You want to know something curious? Around Christmas time, my sister found a cat near the junkyard that she decided to bring home. He was a very odd-looking black and brown, leopard spotted Maine Coon with what seemed like a tuft of mane, who she had unceremoniously named Muffin. I could see that the cat obviously didn't like that name, but what could he complain about it?

What indeed! I think he liked me only because I hated the name only as much as he hated it. I never called him such a ridiculous name. In fact, I never call him anything at all. I just introduce him to people as "Oh, that's my cat." When they ask me what his name is, I just wonder along with them. "He has a name, he just won't tell me," I say with an amused laugh. Some people think I'm just being a cute cat owner. No, he's not even my cat to begin with! The only reason I came about having him is because my sister raves that the cat makes her life a living hell! I think it's retribution for the horrible name she gave him. He's not all that bad; you just have to know how to deal with him.

But all that aside, the cat is now mine. And with that being said, let me tell you a little bit about my cat, to which his name has never been shared with me…

Looking for a new house was stressful enough, but I thought my cat should have a say in it. I was the type of person to believe in the feline's foresight capability, and that he would be able to tell me if something wasn't right with the house by simply exploring the rooms. Unfortunately for me, I was horribly wrong to consider my cat to have any type of mystical power. All he knows is what he likes.

The first house was a nice little place: two bedroom, nice neighborhood. I put my cat on the floor and we explored the house together. He was quite serious about the whole affair. I looked down at him after we were done exploring the house. "So, what did you think?"

"Merrr," he made some weird growling sound, and scrunched up his face, as though to say, "Eew, you would even consider this place?"

I have to admit, I was a little insulted by his reaction, as was the real estate agent. "What's wrong with it?" I asked incredulously. I swear up and down he stuck his tongue out. "You just don't like it?" He nodded to me. The real estate agent was taken aback to see I was not only asking my cats opinion, but he was answering me back! I was used to it though…So many people don't realize their cats want to be included in decisions that affect their lives.

"Fine!" I said to him, rather annoyed, picking him up much to his chagrin. "We'll look at some other places," I told the amused agent.

The next house was a flat. It was quaint: perfect for a young woman and her cat. It wasn't like I was looking to add a new person to my life anytime soon, and the flat I thought reflected my personality. Again, we did our song and dance of looking around the place, when I asked him, once more, how he liked the place. He gave me a bored look. I sighed. "What's wrong with this place? I like it."

To my disbelief, he scowled at me, as though to say, "Well, you just have poor taste." He then got up and flicked his tail at me. I looked over to the real estate agent with an embarrassed look on my face. Surely, she was going to regale her friends about this whole incident, and I uncomfortably asked her if she could show us some more houses.

House after flat after apartment, my cat just didn't seem pleased with any of them. Finally, before we even entered the last house, my disgruntled Maine Coon snubbed the real estate agent, leapt out of my arms, and refused to go inside. I dismissed the woman, telling her I would call her later if we make a decision. Yes, WE. Don't laugh, you have to know my cat to understand.

After the woman left, I asked him, in an annoyed manner, "Well? Where do you propose we move? We can't live at my parents' house forever!"

His spirits lifted immediately, as though to say, "FINALLY!" at having his advice be called upon. He then started walking; stopping every so often to make sure I was following him. Every once in a while he would give me a look of "Hurry up, woman!"

When he finally stopped and looked at me with a triumphant look on his face, I looked around to see that we were in front of a junkyard. "What about it?" I asked.

His face fell. He seemed to wonder why I didn't get it. He then looked intently at the junkyard, then back up at me, then gave me a meaningful "Meow!" I looked up again, realizing what he was telling me. A few cats had peeked out of the junkyard and were watching me intently.

"So, this is where you go when you disappear for days on end," I said softly to myself. Then I shook my head back to reality and looked down at my cat. Throwing my hands up in the air, I yelled at him "WE'RE NOT LIVING IN A JUNKYARD!" He scowls at me, and does that same "Merrr" sound he makes when he's not satisfied with my decision.

A few cats had come out to investigate me, and my well meaning cat, who seemed to be very popular among the felines, stood proudly and meowed something to his cat friends. I assume he was introducing me. While watching this spectacle, I swear I heard a high pitch giggle and a "shh!", but I think by that time my mind was running away with me. This whole thing was ridiculous!

"Okay, look you!" I said to my cat, pointing a finger at him. "I am NOT living in a junkyard. We're taking that quaint little blue house with the upstairs. I'm calling the Real Estate Agent right now and telling her that we're taking it!" I reached down to grab my cell phone, but couldn't find it. I shrugged it off; I must have left it at home. "Tomorrow, I'll call her!" I said in a fluster. "Now let's go home!" He did follow me, but probably because a bunch of adorable kittens started to climb all over him, mewing incessantly.

(If you're wondering why I didn't chose the flat I liked so much, well…Well… the blue house was the only one we both could look at and not hate. What? Don't laugh at my reasoning! The flat was so expensive anyways.)

My story doesn't stop there, oh, no. There's the small matter of feeding time.

With all it took to get settled in, my Maine Coon tom decided to disappear until all was settled in. I thought he would get lost in the new territory, but once he returned, I breathed a sigh of relief. In his first meal back at the house, I decided to give him tuna. He stared intently at me while I fixed his meal, and my mutterings of "I'm almost done," seemed to just agitate him more. When I finally placed the food done, he sniffed and sniffed, then looked up at me with a sneer.

"What?" I asked. "Most cats like tuna!"

"Meow," he said, an annoyed look on his face.

"Ok, then…how about turkey?" I took out the can of turkey, and again he resumed his intent look, while I emptied out the tuna back into its original can and replaced it with turkey and gravy. Again, I put the plate down and again, he sneered. "Why did you look at me like you wanted in the first place then?"

"Meow," he shrugged.

"Ok…" I wasn't about to ignore his meal. He looked a lot thinner than when I last saw him, since he probably wasn't getting his usual meals in that junkyard he wanted me to call home.

I found things to feed him I didn't even realize existed in my refrigerator, nor did I want to know how they got there. Pheasant?

"Meow," he disagreed.

I put down grouse (whatever the hell that is). "Meow," he sneered.

I put down rabbit (don't ask how that got there.) "Meow!" he seemed to scream.

I put down some fresh fish (not tuna, obviously.) "Merr…" he seemed to roll his eyes.

"Would you rather a feast?" I asked him sarcastically. "I put down so much, I'm sure you could feed all the cats in the junkyard with it!"

I eventually buckled and tried a dish of cream, and we all know milk is bad for cats. He actually looked at me as though I was trying to poison him. "FINE!" I yelled. "I'm at my wits end. Go out and catch a rat or something! I'm done!" I took all the food and threw it outside in a fit of rage.

But to my surprise, the cat who would be mine looked like an idea struck him, and left the house. Two hours later, after watching through the window a fat black and white cat thoroughly enjoy the feast I had thrown out per my majestic Maine Coon's request, my cat returned with something in his mouth. Once I let him in, I saw him put down a dead mouse. "A mouse? What, you couldn't catch a rat?"

He looked at me with surprise, then annoyance, as though to say, "What? I'd rather have a mouse!" And with that, I threw up my hands in surrender. But I now stock plenty of different kinds of food with resealable tops just for him. And sometimes that fat cat returns hoping for a meal…

While I would LOVE to end the story there, there is a bit more to say. My tom cat is a regular pimp! I remember the first time I met one of the members of his apparent harem.

"Meow! Meow!" I heard the call while reading Old Possum's Book of Practical Cats. (That T. S. Eliot knew what he was talking about.) I opened up the door to see my cat come in, in all his regal glory.

"It's about time you came home---what the…" He had turned around to let another cat in. A beautiful red queen followed him in, looking around as though to say, "Nice place…"

I then watched in utter amazement as he ignored me completely and started showing her around. He ACTUALLY showed her around. He walked up to the couch with the sunken in cushion and meowed, as though to say, "This is where I sleep," and the other cat nodded in approval.

He then walked over to the recliner and meowed with what I swear up and down was a smug look on his face, as though to say "This is where I jump on my owners lap when she's in the middle of something." The queen seemed to think it was funny. (Can cats laugh? I swear she did.)

This tour of my house, or I should say his house, continued until the grand finale. He came up to me, finally seeming to acknowledge me, and the queen looked up at me to fully take me in. He gave a triumphant meow and nodded over to me. Apparently, I was considered part of the furniture, since he didn't bother to be introduced me first. I could just imagine what he would say if he could speak. "This is my moving sofa. Sometimes she becomes a transport vessel and carries me and all my glory to where ever I want to go. What do you think, Baby, are you impressed?"

And she was! She sniffed at me and gave an approving mew to the tom. He then walked out the door I had forgotten to close, the red queen in tow.

Recently, though, things have calmed down a bit. Earlier, my cat did his chorus of meowing from being in the room, meowing from not being in the room, crying incessantly at not getting his food, and his classic snubbing of the food when he finally got it. I gave him his usual water, and he snubbed it as usual until I went to take it away. Then I did some grievous act to which he decided to hiss at me for. I was paying my bills later on, when he decided to jump up on the table and sit right in the middle of all the checks and papers I was currently using, you know, to do something as silly as feed us, and keep a roof over our house. That horrible muddler… And God forbid I try and cuddle him! He'll look shocked, then jump out of my arms and look at me as though I touched something sacred and should be punished. I am otherwise accepted as part of his life, and his friends who frequent a visit, seem to accent the fact that I exist. (Probably only because I give them food too).

He has his good points though. I eventually got my cell phone back.

One day he came home, and I thought he had brought yet another queen home to introduce her to the inanimate and moving furniture. The cat was an adorable orange striped cat, but she seemed really down when she came in, like she was in trouble. Then another cat followed her in that looked exactly like her! Were they twins? Which one was which? I'll never know. All I know is my cat meowed a furious meow at the two, hissed slightly, and looked over at my feet, then did his disapproving "Merr" sound.

I had no idea what was going on, but I think he was yelling at them for something they had supposedly done to me. After all, I was his property. I was useful sometimes when it came to meal times.

The two cats looked sullenly at each other, and then produced my cell phone out of no where. I was utterly shocked. Stupidly, I bent down, took up the cell phone, and said "Thank You…" to the apparent cat burglars.

My cat hissed at the two, and they ran out of the house as quickly as possible. He then rubbed up against my leg, and then ran outside, to go about his business.

What can I say, he may be a terrible bore at times, and incredibly annoying what with his way of dealing with things, but my cat has personality. My sister couldn't handle him, but even she understood…he will do as he do do, and there's no doing anything about it!

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_So that was that! Not a usual fan fiction, but I felt that since my cat is a golden embodiment of the rum tum tugger, and my sister in law and I constantly make fun of him for that reason, this was the perfect "Lets make fun of my cat" fic. It's not your usual run of the mill Fan Fiction, but you try being the owner of a Rum Tum Tugger persona, and not write from an owners point of view. By the way, my cat's name is Chelito. Not that it matters...Hope you enjoyed, and please, review!_


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